Gospel Story Finder

I recently had the opportunity to minister to a widowed sister named Franca Calamassi, who is suffering from a debilitating illness. Sister Calamassi was the first member of her family to join the restored Church of Jesus Christ. Although her husband was never baptized, he consented to meet with the missionaries and often attended Church meetings. Despite these circumstances, Sister Calamassi remained faithful and raised her four children in the gospel of Jesus Christ. A year following her husband’s passing, Sister Calamassi took her children to the temple, and they participated in sacred ordinances and were sealed together as a family. The promises associated with these ordinances brought her much hope, joy, and happiness that helped her carry on in life.

When the first symptoms of the disease began to appear, her bishop gave her a blessing. At that time she told her bishop that she was ready to accept the Lord’s will, expressing her faith to be healed as well as her faith to endure her illness to the end.

During my visit, while holding Sister Calamassi’s hand and looking into her eyes, I saw an angelic glow emanating from her countenance—reflecting her confidence in God’s plan and her perfect brightness of hope in the Father’s love and plan for her.25 I felt her firm determination to endure in her faith until the end by taking up her cross, despite the challenges she was facing. This sister’s life is a testimony of Christ, a statement of her faith and devotion to Him.

At 92 years old, Sister Marie Giles is a shining example of unwavering faith, commitment and service.
During the lockdown, she has sewn scrub bags and masks, knitted hats for Syrian refugees, baby hats and blankets for Poole Maternity Unit and gloves for the homeless. She has also contributed food for Hope for Food, a local organisation which serves the vulnerable and homeless in the community. She has made meals for the missionaries, cakes, pickles, jams and lemon curd for ward members and for those to whom she ministers.
Sister Giles also cares for her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She has recently organised a temple week for her family who are spread out over three continents. Realising that they can’t presently attend the temple, she has arranged for a week of daily temple/family history activities. This will start with a virtual fireside to introduce and motivate all the members of the family, including of course, the young great-grandchildren.
Sister Giles joined the Church, against the wishes of her family who initially disowned her, after being tracted by the missionaries 62 years ago.
Since then, she has served as branch and district Primary president, as a stake Relief Society president, as a stake Young Women president, in the mission Relief Society presidency, as a Relief Society teacher, as a chorister, as a Sunday School teacher, as a visiting teacher and ministering sister, as a family history consultant and for the last thirty years as a temple worker.
Neither age, a recent diagnosis of illness nor current COVID conditions have halted Sister Marie’s determination to serve as she always has.
What an inspirational example of a continuing life of service.

Another member, Miguel Samudio, joined the Church while studying in Buenos Aires. He made the difficult decision to leave his girlfriend behind and serve a mission. “Her parents wouldn’t let her get baptized, and she didn’t want me to go,” he explains. “But I had to. I had found a great treasure.” Six months later he received a photograph of her dressed in white and standing with two missionaries; he realized she had been baptized. When he returned, they were married in the temple. He was called as second counselor in the Jujuy stake presidency less than five years after his mission.

Joel stopped by Brandon’s house on the way home from school. Brandon had been diagnosed with cancer a year ago, and now he had home school because his treatments made him weak. Brandon also had to stop playing on their baseball team. School and baseball practice just weren’t the same without him.
Brandon’s mom answered the door. “Thank you for coming, Joel,” she said. “Some of Brandon’s friends don’t visit anymore. I think they feel uncomfortable.”
Joel looked down at his feet. He hadn’t visited Brandon for a few weeks. Then he ducked into Brandon’s room.
Brandon’s face brightened when he saw Joel. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
“No problem,” Joel said. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. The chemotherapy makes me tired, but the worst thing is having to wear this hat all the time.” Brandon pulled off his baseball cap to reveal his bald head.
“Did the chemotherapy do that?” Joel asked.
Brandon nodded.
“That’s rough.”
Brandon rubbed his head. “Actually, it’s pretty smooth.”
Joel grinned. Brandon had a great sense of humor. He’d even kept it through his sickness and all the hard treatments.
Joel stayed until he could tell Brandon was getting tired. As he walked home, Joel thought about how he could help his friend feel better. He took off his baseball cap and looked at it. He remembered how excited he and Brandon had been when they’d gotten their team hats. Now Brandon wore his all the time to cover his head.
Joel had an idea. He smiled as he hurried home to share it with his mom.
“Are you sure?” Mom asked when Joel told her his plan.
Joel nodded. “That way Brandon won’t feel so alone,” he said. “I need to talk with the rest of the team.”
The next day Joel and his teammates went to Brandon’s house.
When they walked into Brandon’s room, Joel could tell it had been a bad day for his friend. Brandon’s freckles stood out on his pale face.
“Guess what?” Joel asked.
Brandon gave a tired smile. “I’m not really in the mood for guessing games today.”
“We’re getting our heads shaved.”
Brandon stared at the boys. “Why?”
“We thought it’d be cool,” Joel said. “And teammates stick together.”
On Saturday the team gathered at Brandon’s house. Brandon’s dad set a stool in the front yard. Joel was first in line. He grinned nervously as Brandon’s dad shaved off hunks of hair.
“All done,” Brandon’s dad said. “Next!”
All the boys on the baseball team had their heads shaved.
“It feels a little funny,” Todd said, rubbing his head.
Everyone laughed.
“You guys are the best,” Brandon said. He was smiling too, even though he had tears in his eyes.
Joel punched Brandon lightly on the shoulder. “Well, you’re our best pitcher,” he said. “We hope you’re back soon, helping us win!”

My grandfather died just three days before Christmas. That year, my family received a gift that changed our lives forever: Glenna. Glenna is my dad’s sister who was born with disabilities. She came to live with us after my grandpa passed away. Ever since that first Christmas, Glenna’s example has taught me how to be more Christlike.
Glenna was born with many physical challenges, and she’s helped me see that sometimes the most beautiful spirits are housed in different-looking bodies. Because of Glenna, I’m no longer self-conscious about the way I look, and I choose to focus on what’s inside.
Living with Glenna has taught me patience. She has difficulty speaking, she often breaks things, and she struggles to do many tasks on her own, but she’s also willing to learn. There’s no greater reward than working with Glenna until she gets something right.
Glenna has taught me to find joy in the little things. For instance, at Glenna’s birthday parties, it didn’t matter whether she received a one-dollar bill or a one-hundred-dollar bill—she was delighted. And when we drove around each year at Christmastime, Glenna would shout, “Wow!” and clap her hands at each brightly lit home we passed by. She’s taught me to see the extraordinary within the ordinary. She’s taught me to see that there’s something special in everything—and everyone.
As I look back on the past Christmases I spent with Glenna, I can see the impact she’s made on my life. Every year, the one Christmas gift I will never forget—and will be forever grateful for—is Glenna.

Listen to the kind of recreation the Saints held under the Prophet’s direction in Nauvoo. On February 20, 1843, a “woodcutting bee” was held at the Prophet’s home. Seventy brethren attended. They sawed, chopped, split, and piled up a large stack of wood in the yard, which served not only the Prophet’s family, but also the many persons they helped out. “The day was spent by them with much pleasantry, good humor, and feeling,” says the record. “A white oak log, measuring five feet four inches in diameter, was cut through with a cross-cut saw, in four-and-a-half minutes, by Hyrum Dayton and Brother John Tidwell.” This tree had been previously cut by the Prophet himself, and he had hauled it to the yard with his team.13

Armando and Claudia Galíndez of the Estrella Ward, México City México Churubusco Stake, are examples. A lawyer, he also owns a company that offers employee training to businesses. Sister Galíndez, trained in tourism management, works with him in his company. Successful in Mexico, Brother Galíndez resists the lure of greater prosperity to the north. Though he might be able to establish a business in the United States, he chooses to stay in Mexico to help build up the Church. He says he wants to help fulfill President Spencer W. Kimball’s dream of the roles of members in Mexican society (see “President Kimball’s Dream,” p. 36).

Even before their marriage, Armando and Claudia made gospel-centered goals for themselves and their family. Brother Galíndez uses a number of gospel-based principles in the training he offers, including this one: “The only thing we need to do to move from ordinary to extraordinary is to understand who we are.”

As in other areas of the world, there are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Mexico who drift away weeks or years after baptism, some never to return. Yet priesthood leaders who have followed President Gordon B. Hinckley’s counsel—making sure that every member has a friend, a responsibility in the Church, and spiritual nourishment with the word of God—say it is very effective in reaching out and bringing back many who are not enjoying the blessings of full activity. And some members return on their own when a spiritual whisper or insight reminds them of how much the gospel has to offer.

Yolanda Elsie Díaz de Vega of the Jardines Ward, Guadalajara México Reforma Stake, recalls staying up late to study the gospel with her husband after they were baptized in 1979: “It was as though we hungered for the scriptures.” But after seven months as a member of the Church, she felt that she was criticized unfairly by an older member and that she could not go to the next meeting. For four years the Vegas did not go to church—until concern for the blessings their family was missing led them back.

The Vegas have been active for many years now, sharing strength with their family, their ward, and their neighbors. There have been great blessings in learning how to be a better couple and in serving others, Brother Vega says. The gospel “changed our way of thinking, our way of living.” Their children have grown up learning and living the gospel, and now grandchildren are enjoying the same spiritual opportunities through Church activity. “I’m proud of our children because we’ve never had to worry about people knowing we are members of the Church,” Sister Vega says. Their four children respond that they live the way they do because of parental example.

Eleven-year-old Samuel Briones of the Primavera Ward, Guadalajara México Moctezuma Stake, helped interest his schoolteacher in the gospel by inviting her to the open house for the Guadalajara temple. After her visit, she began meeting with the missionaries. The man who taught karate to Samuel and his 12-year-old brother, José Julio, became interested in the gospel because of his association with the two boys; he was baptized and now serves as stake executive secretary.

“Many are looking for the truth, but they don’t know where it is,” says the boys’ father, also José Julio. It is easy to share beliefs with people when we, as members, are attentive enough to the Holy Ghost to know their need, Brother Briones says. His wife, Josefina, learned that the seeds we plant may take time to sprout, then grow quickly. She had shared her beliefs with one couple who seemed ready to listen but declined her invitations to attend Church meetings because of conflicts in their schedule. When they finally were able to attend with her, even she was surprised at how readily and quickly they accepted the gospel.

Mauro Gil of Mérida, who served as president of the México Torreón Mission from 1999 to 2002, says the example of members is probably the major factor in the reception missionaries receive. Reflecting on the influence of exemplary members, he says, “I think the gospel is going to make a greater nation of Mexico.” He has witnessed steady progress in the lives of members in the Yucatán Peninsula over the past 20 years not only spiritually but also temporally as they have obeyed principles of the gospel, including the law of tithing.

The temples in Mexico, he says, are just one visible symbol of the blossoming and growth among members. “They are going to bless the lives of people. They are going to bless our children.”

As December approached, I was busy preparing for the rush of the Christmas season. For four years, Christmas festivities had been held in our home, but this year I felt overwhelmed. When I discussed with my husband everything we needed to do—buy presents, prepare food, and do many other things—we decided to cancel the Christmas party and do something different this Christmas. We wanted to do something that we could give as a gift for the Savior.
Throughout December, we held family home evenings about the life of Jesus Christ, went to the temple, and planned family service projects. My husband was a bishop at the time, and we decided that on Christmas Day we would sing for all the widows in the ward. As a family, we began to practice several hymns we would sing. My children loved to sing “Away in a Manger” (Hymns, no. 206).
On Christmas Eve, we made cards with special Christmas messages and prepared treats to take on our visits. I was pleased to see our family so united and happy to serve others with such love. I could feel the spirit of Christmas.
On Christmas Day, our children were eager to make the visits. With each home we visited, we felt happier, and it seemed that the hymns became better each time we sang. When we arrived at the last house, it looked like no one was home. We waited a few minutes, and the children began to get restless. Eventually an elderly widow came out to meet us with her Sunday clothes on and her hair nicely combed. When she saw us, her eyes filled with tears. I became emotional as well and could hardly sing.
As we returned home, our five-year-old daughter told us she didn’t want to go home but wanted to keep singing. Before I could respond, my nine-year-old said, “We’ll just do it again next year!”
For our family, this was an unforgettable Christmas because we lifted others and showed our love for Jesus Christ. As I reflected on the events of the day, I felt the love of the Lord and remembered His words, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).

The role of Brigham Young University during the first 100 years was clear. It was to strengthen members and provide faithful leaders and teachers for the Church. Karl G. Maeser, faced with numerous problems in the 1880s, decided to leave Brigham Young Academy. He changed his mind, however, when in a dream he saw tens of thousands of members that would be blessed by a modern university on Temple Hill.

I remember, early in the days of nuclear engineering, when we were experimenting to confirm some of the hypotheses. One day I was in an area where a swimming pool had been built, and down deep in it were aluminum plates with uranium-aluminum contents arrayed. Three of us were taking turns at the controls, and I remember the thrill of excitement that came to me as we moved the control rods. I happened to be at the control panel when the count-rate meter indicated that the reactor had gone critical; and as I looked down into the pool I could see that shirinkoff radiation, the iridescent blue indicating that in fact there was a controlled chain reaction. That may not appear much to you now with today’s familiarity with physics, but it was a scientific thrill for me.

Later, we experimentally measured cross-sections of materials to determine their nuclear constants. We used a beam of high-energy neutrons from one of the graphite pile reactors, deflecting it with a crystal into experimental apparatus. A young janitor approached the experiment evidencing total disdain for what we were doing. He did not understand it nor did he want to understand it. In kind of an accusatory way he indicated that we were just wasting time, kidding people, doing that which had no real meaning. To show his disdain he reached up to touch the crystal that deflected the beam and to whirl it. Had he not been stopped, that powerful, dangerous beam of high-energy neutrons would have sprayed the room. His if-you-can’t-see-it-taste-it-smell-it-feel-it-hear-it-then-it-doesn’t-exist attitude is all too prevalent in the world today when we talk about things of God, things that really matter.

President Worthen, this is always going to be hard for me to share without getting emotional. As I have mentioned, when I first came to BYU, I was a little bit lost as a freshman. When I decided that I was going to pack it in and go home, the bishop of my home ward said, “You should go talk to my brother before you decide to pack it in.” My bishop at home was Bishop Clyde Worthen, who is President Worthen’s brother.

So I went into President Worthen’s office, ready to go home. President Worthen knew me by name, he spent time with me, and he let me know that he thought if I would just stick with it that I would grow to love BYU like he did. He’s been my mentor and my friend ever since that day.

I’m so grateful for all of these amazing leaders who have had such a profound impact on me.

The 48-year-old General Authority’s own personal conversion is rooted in the Book of Mormon.
Miguel and Iris Alvarado joined the Church in Puerto Rico in 1977 when their son Jorge was 6 years old.
Young Jorge was baptized two years later and never missed Sabbath services. By almost all definitions, he was an active member.
“But my own conversion happened when I was 16,” he said.
In high school, Jorge was selected to be the president of his seminary class in his hometown of Ponce. That year, the students were studying the Book of Mormon.
His new responsibility prompted personal soul-searching.
“I had to ask myself, ‘Do I really know the Book of Mormon is true?’ How could I be the president of the class if I didn’t even know if that book was true?”
He picked up his copy of the Book of Mormon and began earnestly reading it for the first time.
“I knelt down and I prayed and I knew then that it was true,” he said.
The Book of Mormon remains a defining element in his life.

Each time I have shared the following experience, it has been helpful to me, and hopefully it will be of value to you. My sister, just older than I, set this very powerful example for me. For many years, she had been the main caregiver for her husband, who had multiple sclerosis and whose body had come to the point that he required almost around-the-clock care. One day, my sister was not feeling well, so she went for an appointment with her doctor. Stomach cancer was diagnosed. It had spread from her stomach to her liver and other abdominal organs. It was inoperable, and she was told that she likely had a very short time to live. She never returned home again. During the weeks she was in the hospital, her temple recommend expired. When it appeared that she had just a few days left to live, while visiting with her Latter-day Saint cancer specialist she said, "I would like to be buried with a current temple recommend." He replied, "I don't think they need to use them over there." "Nevertheless," she answered, "I want to be buried with a current temple recommend." Her bishop and stake president came and interviewed her. She passed away a few days later, and she was buried with a current temple recommend. With that example, I hope and intend to do the same. I always want to live in such a way that I will be able to look my bishop and stake president in the eye and answer their questions honestly and appropriately. I always want to have in my possession a current temple recommend, and, as we are counseled by our leaders, to use it "as frequently as circumstances allow."

In the spring of 1999, I made the decision to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In truth, I had made up my mind to serve a mission as a young boy in Primary years before, but the real decision came as I approached my 19th birthday and was eligible to serve. As I took inventory of my life, my current circumstances, and what I wanted at that time, it was a difficult decision to make. However, as I counseled with family and friends and turned to the Lord in prayer, I knew that serving a mission was what the Lord wanted for me and what I needed to do. The decision to serve has influenced my life in more ways than I can count or convey. Putting my trust in the Lord and serving a mission helped me come to know Him intimately, helped me trust Him completely with my life, and deepened my faith and knowledge of His gospel to name a few. Little did I know then how helpful these principles would be for my life.

Have you ever felt like you failed at something even though you had hoped with all your heart you would succeed? That’s how I felt as I came home from my mission. Two years in France, and what good had I done? Sure, I had made friends, learned a language, and grown to love faithful Saints who strive to live the gospel.
But I hadn’t baptized anyone.
Then I remembered advice my mission president gave me during my final interview: “If you can honestly say that the Lord is pleased with the effort you have made, if you can honestly say that you did the best you could for Him, then that is the measure of your success. Nothing else matters.”
As I thought about that, I felt compelled to pray. Slowly, peace came to my heart. The Spirit whispered, “The Lord knows you did the best you could. Your sacrifice is acceptable.” It was time to get on with the next steps of my life.
Fast-forward many years. I was writing a letter to my daughter, who was serving a mission in Canada, when I heard a ping on my phone. Someone had sent me a photo of the inside front cover of a copy of the Book of Mormon with a testimony written in French—in my own handwriting! I had given the book to a sister who had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints while I was a missionary (though I hadn’t baptized her), but she had fallen away a couple of years later. Why would someone be sending me a photo of the testimony I had written so many years before?
The picture came with a message: “I thought you would be interested in seeing your testimony again. My aunt was so excited when I joined the Church that she gave me the Book of Mormon you once gave to her. I thought you would appreciate knowing what a treasure it is to me.
“My aunt didn’t remain active in the Church, but she always spoke highly of it, so much so that her younger sister (my mother) asked the missionaries to teach her. My mother joined the Church. She was married in the temple. She and my father raised four children as members of the Church. My three siblings and I have all served missions and been married in the temple. We are all active and faithful.”
Emotion overwhelmed me. All those years ago, I thought I had failed. But now I could see how the Lord had accomplished His work, in His way, over time.
If you had asked me at the end of my mission, I would have said I was a failure. But as I thought about the testimony I had written in that Book of Mormon all those years ago, I realized that you haven’t failed as long as you do your best for the Lord. “Maybe the only thing I failed at was being a failure,” I thought.
“I realized that you haven’t failed as long as you do your best for the Lord.”

Recently, while traveling for a weekend assignment, I realized my carry-on bag wouldn’t fit in the overhead space. I needed that bag. It contained important, essential material. Almost before I had a chance to react, an attendant took my bag, wrapped a tag around its handle, handed me a luggage claim ticket, and whisked my precious possession away.
Throughout that flight, I had an anxious feeling. I hoped someone was taking care of the bag and its contents. I hoped it would not be forgotten, neglected, or lost. I clutched my claim ticket, hoping for a successful reunion.
My story had a happy ending; my bag and I were reunited. But the experience got me thinking.

The last thing I remember before the four-wheeler flipped was being so scared that I couldn’t even scream. I closed my eyes and felt my body being dragged across the ground. When the four-wheeler landed on top of me, it knocked me out. Somehow my friend Kurt, who was also injured, lifted it off me.
When I woke, I tasted blood and dirt in my mouth. I was dizzy and lying on the side of a ditch. At first I didn’t feel any pain, but soon I began to hurt every time I breathed. After Kurt helped me take off my helmet, my left arm, which was bent out of shape, started to hurt too. I had a big lump on my head, and when I looked at my left leg, I saw a huge cut. My leg was bleeding, and it soon swelled to twice its normal size.
Then I got scared—not of dying but of thinking I might never be able to play soccer again.
Both of my parents are from Argentina. Everyone in my family knows soccer. I grew up playing it and watching it, especially with my dad. When Argentina won the World Cup in 2022, it was the best day ever!
Playing soccer has taught me that if I do my best, I can do things I didn’t think I could do. That applies to school too, like with tests. Tests can be tough, but if I study and work hard, I know I’ll do OK.
I’ve also learned that I’m more frustrated if I play badly than if my team loses. Even if we lose, I’m still happy if I played well.
Right after the accident, my sister Nicole showed up with her friend on another four-wheeler, and two boys who saw us crash quickly drove up on their four-wheelers.
“My dad’s a nurse!” one boy said. While he called his dad for help, Nicole and her friend hurried back to our camp to get my dad.
That morning, nurse Mike Staheli had planned to head home from a weekend campout with some friends. But they felt prompted to stay one more day. I’m thankful they did.
While Mike gave me first aid and checked my vital signs, someone called for an ambulance. Mike feared that I had broken my arm and femur, cracked several ribs, and that I was bleeding internally.
Mike said the ambulance from a nearby town would likely arrive first, but my condition was serious enough that I should be airlifted to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. A medevac helicopter was also called for.
When my dad and his friend Hector saw me, they knew I needed a priesthood blessing. My dad asked me, “Do you have faith in the power of the priesthood? Do you have faith that the Lord can help you and heal you?”
“I do have faith, Papá,” I told him. But at the same time, I wondered, “What if I don’t have enough faith?”
My dad anointed me, and Hector blessed me. As soon as the blessing began, my breathing slowed, I calmed down, and I felt warmth even though it was cold outside. I knew then that I did have enough faith and that I was going to be fine either way.
When the ambulance arrived, paramedics cut off my favorite soccer shirt and checked my vital signs. They had stabilized. The helicopter arrived a few minutes later.
When the helicopter landed at the hospital, I was rushed inside. Nurses and doctors began examining me and doing lots of tests, including an MRI. My dad and I expected the worst, and so did they.
But they found nothing! No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no sign of concussion. My leg still hurt a lot, though.
“This is a miracle!” a nurse told me. Later, one doctor said, “OK, Alan, looks like you can go home tonight.”
I was like, “Really?”
Because I still had a hard time walking, I stayed in the hospital overnight. I left the next morning with only a brace on my left wrist. A few weeks later, I was training again for soccer.

Would you like to hear about a missionary who was prompted to make a wise choice? He was new in the work and was assigned to labor in the city of Oshawa, Ontario, Canada, with a veteran missionary as a companion. They called at the home of a family by the name of Pollard. They knocked, and Mr. Pollard let them in. He invited them to present their material. After he had heard their message, and after he had prayed with them, it seemed as though the spirit of the adversary came over him, and he became angry with the elders and told them to leave and never come back again. As he showed them to the door, he said, “You can’t tell me that you really believe Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, anyway.” The door slammed shut. The two dejected missionaries walked away.

This young missionary turned to his senior companion and said, “We didn’t answer Mr. Pollard’s question.”

The senior companion explained the futility of attempting to return. But the young elder said, “I’m going back. I won’t feel right until I do.”

They returned to Mr. Pollard’s door and knocked on it. He opened the door and said, “I thought I told you fellows to leave.”

The next decision took all the strength of character and all the fortitude that this young man could muster, for his senior companion did not give him much help. I heard Mr. Pollard himself describe the experience. He said, “That missionary looked me in the eye. He hesitated for a moment, and then said, ‘Mr. Pollard, as we left your home, you made a statement that we really didn’t believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Mr. Pollard, I want you to know that I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and that this work is true.’”

After this declaration, the missionaries departed. Mr. Pollard later told me that all the rest of the day and that evening he kept hearing those words echoing through his ears: “I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know it. I know it. I know it.”

The next morning he telephoned the missionaries and asked them to come back. They returned to his home and taught him the gospel. They taught his wife the gospel. They taught his children the gospel. All became members of the Church. If you could have accompanied me to the district conference I attended a few years back and heard this man stand on his feet and thank his Heavenly Father for the choice that a young missionary made to return and to bear his witness, you, my brothers and sisters, would be forever anxious to “choose the right when a choice is placed before you.”

Forty-five years ago I worked with a man named Sharman Hummel in the printing business. I once asked him how he came to receive his testimony of the gospel.
He responded, “We lived in the East. I was journeying by bus to San Francisco. In Salt Lake City a young girl entered the bus—a Primary girl—who sat next to me. She was going to Reno, Nevada, for a visit with her aunt. As we journeyed westward, I noticed a billboard: ‘Visit the Mormon Sunday School this week.’
“I said to the little girl, ‘I guess there are a lot of Mormons in Utah, aren’t there?’
“She replied, ‘Yes, sir.’
“Then I said to her, ‘Are you a Mormon?’
“Again her reply: ‘Yes, sir.’”
Sharman Hummel then asked, “What do Mormons believe?” And that little girl recited the first article of faith; then she talked about it. Continuing, she gave him the second article of faith and talked about it. Then she gave him the third and the fourth and the fifth and the sixth and all of the Articles of Faith and talked about all of them.
Sharman Hummel said, “I was profoundly impressed. When I arrived in San Francisco, the very first thing I did was to look through the yellow pages for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I called the mission president, and he sent two missionaries to where I was staying. I became a member of the Church, my wife became a member, all of our children became members.”
The entire Hummel family remained active in the Church. Each of the daughters has been to the temple. Countless are those who have been brought to a knowledge of the gospel by the members of this family—all because a young child had been taught the Articles of Faith and had the ability and the courage to proclaim the truth.

Mom and Dad have called Hannah and her siblings for a family meeting.
Our Church leaders have asked us to prepare for emergencies. But we don’t have much extra money. We’ll have to make a sacrifice.
We’re giving up cereal for one month. We’ll use the money to buy supplies. OK?
What will we eat for breakfast?
Oatmeal! We have lots in our food storage.
Oatmeal? Blegh!
The next morning
Try mixing something in. I like raisins in mine.
*sigh* OK …
Day 1: Raisins
Gross!
Day 2: Banana
Yuck!
Day 3: Coconut
Ew!
Day 4: Berries
Nope!
Try this. It has apples, cinnamon, and brown sugar. It tastes like apple pie!
Mmm, that’s good! I’m having this tomorrow too.
I bought first aid supplies for our emergency kits yesterday. Thanks for being good sports. I know giving up your favorite cereal was a sacrifice.
I guess all this gloppy oatmeal was worth it.
Besides, it’s not so bad after all!